


on your tongue like candy

by Victorian_Asylum



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Bratty Bottom Beau, Complete and Utter Disregard for the Dunamancy Magic System, F/F, Light Bondage, Strap-Ons, lightning play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-04-08 02:10:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19097617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Victorian_Asylum/pseuds/Victorian_Asylum
Summary: Beau's loyalty is rewarded.(Followup to my other story, 'god forgive me please, cause i want you on your knees'.)





	on your tongue like candy

**Author's Note:**

> Oops I have done it a second time
> 
> Um.... happy pride?
> 
> Also, this is a direct followup to my other fic, but that one was also plotless smut, so if you haven't read it, you aren't missing anything.

Beau isn’t sure what she expected from the Bright Queen’s personal chambers. Something extravagant, perhaps, something befitting an empress. A room that screamed indulgence in every sense of the word. In reality, it was fairly modest. More expensive than anything Beau had ever seen in her life, granted, but still far simpler than she had imagined it to be. A desk near the front surrounded by bookshelves that spanned an entire wall. Further left, a small reading area. Across the room, a large canopied bed covered in thick purple linens. At the far end, a half open door leading a private bath. Perhaps the Queen had many rooms, or maybe she preferred simplicity. It matters little. Beau doesn’t care.

Beau has been left alone, which tells her everything she needs to know about what was in this room. There is nothing here the Queen didn’t want her to see, not that Beau expected anything different. The Queen wouldn’t leave dynasty secrets at the mercy of an individual with questionable allegiance to the enemy. Still, she wants some way of passing time, so she scans the shelves for any books that catch her eye. Certainly there must be at least a handful of interesting reads. She finds one that catches her eye, bound in red leather with delicate golden trim, and pulls it out. She flips through a few pages. The paper is yellowed but the print remains fresh, dark ink crisp and clear. The lettering is familiar, but different. Beau cannot read it.

“Undercommon,” comes the Bright Queen’s voice from the door. She shuts it behind her as she steps into the room. “Do you know it?”

Beau looks up at her and closes the book with an audible thump. “No. I don’t. Elvish, halfling, deep speech for fun.” She puts the book back on the shelf. “Give me some time here, I’ll speak it like I was born with it.”

The Queen raises a brow. “Good to know.” She moves further into the room, walking with purpose. She closes the distance between them. “I brought you here for your reward, but I don’t think you want to be rewarded.”

“How do you figure on that one?”

“I’ve had quite a long time to learn how to read individuals. You don’t want to be rewarded. You want to be taken care of. You want to give someone else control.”

Beau tries to respond, but all that comes out are sputtering, half finished sentences. The Bright Queen is right, but hearing her say it was like a punch in the throat that leaves Beau speechless. People were never that direct with her, and her personal preferences were some of her most guarded secrets. After all, she was taught not to reveal any exploitable weaknesses. Beau watches the Queen in silence, completely found out. 

To her credit, the Queen merely chuckles. “There is no shame here. If I’m to do this right, I’ll do it on your terms.” Amusement dances in her eyes for the briefest of moments, before a hard gleam replaces it. “Now, get undressed. There is a washroom in the back should you feel the need. When you are ready, return to me. I will be at my desk. I’ve work to do.” 

With that, she promptly turns around and goes to her desk, taking a seat and pulling a small stack of letters closer to her, breaking the wax seal on one, and beginning to read. Beau stands there for a moment longer, before she heads to the washroom. She closes the door behind her and leans against it, exhaling heavily. There is a large tub set into the ground, fresh water steaming, rose petals floating across the surface. Not that Beau feels the need to step into it. Ever since the first time with the Queen, and the promise of more, Beau has been relentlessly scrubbing herself clean, waiting for her summons. She’d even washed and rewashed her clothes. She was putting in effort like she’d never done before. She could claim this was political until she was blue in the face, but that’d be the biggest line of bullshit she’d ever spouted. It was far beyond that.

Beau undresses slowly, slipping off her boots, taking off her bracers, unwrapping her arms and legs. She places her things in neat piles atop the counter by the washbasin. It didn’t feel right, somehow, to leave it all in a haphazard pile. Once she is entirely undressed, she gives herself a quick once over. There are a few bruises spread across her body that are still healing, some cuts with fresh silvery scars, but the Queen should expect that from her. Maybe she likes that? The thought makes Beau smile.

When Beau steps out of the washroom, the Bright Queen is still reading. She does not look up, but she does address her. “Come here, Beauregard.”

“It’s just- it’s just Beau,” she says as she crosses the room.

“Beau.” The Queen shifts in her chair but still does not look at her. “Sit upon my lap please, while I finish up my work.”

Beau frowns, but does as she is told. The Bright Queen moves to accommodate her, and the chair groans under the new weight, but the room is otherwise silent. Beau dares a glance at the letter in front of her. Certainly they can’t be that important if the Bright Queen has them out so casually. Beau stares at them for a moment, the letters swimming before her eyes. It’s all written in Undercommon. Clever woman.

“Remain silent while I work. I’ll see to you in a moment.” The Queen resumes her reading with hardly a glance at Beau.

Under any other circumstance, Beau would feel a little wounded at being so thoroughly ignored by a woman she knows wants to sleep with her, but Beau understand that the Queen is playing a game, and Beau can play along just as well. So she does. She sits in silence, and tries not to fidget. She looks for anything in the letter she can understand, but there is nothing. Against her back, she can feel the even breaths of the Queen, calm and collected. How many times has she done this before? Dozens, hundreds? Just how much has she figured out about her anyways?

It feels like hours that they’re there, quiet except for the rustling of paper, the scratch of a quill as notes are taken. In all reality, Beau knows it’s only been a few minutes. Still, time crawls for her, moments stretching out before her, open and wanting before the Queen, until she feels the cool touch of the Bright Queen’s fingers against her knee. It’s light, barely there, but it commands attention, and Beau is keenly aware of its presence on her bare skin. The Bright Queen strokes idle patterns with her thumb, causal, slow, but Beau’s entire body goes taut like a bowstring pulled back and ready to fire. The waiting has her on edge in the best way, unsure of what’s going to happen.

The Bright Queen’s hand moves higher, brushing along Beau’s inner thigh, tracing patterns as her fingers dance along skin. Her intent is clear and it’s maddening. A groan escapes Beau’s lips before she can stop herself, and the movements of the Queen’s hand stills, before she pulls away entirely.

“Behave, Beau. I will not repeat myself again.”

Beau nods, eyes closed tight, and takes long, low breaths to steady herself. Were it anyone else, she wouldn’t be so worked up, but this is the empress of fucking Xhorhas. The effect she has is almost otherworldly, but Beau can’t bring herself to care. Beau keeps her eyes closed and her breaths even. After a few minutes, the Queen’s wandering hand returns, tracing a familiar path up Beau’s thigh. She clenches her jaw to suppress another groan when the Queen brushes a sensitive patch of skin along Beau upper thigh. The building tension is maddening, the Queen’s nimble fingers moving ever inward, but there is no denying it was having its intended effect. Beau can feel herself getting wet, worked up over the thought of what the Queen has planned. Of what she could do to her. The possibilities are endless and enticing and Beau wants to see them all.

The first touch of the Queen’s fingers against her clit shoots through Beau like white hot lightning and it takes every ounce of inner strength not to make a sound. The Bright Queen’s fingers are light, teasing, circling with only the faintest hint of pressure. Beau doesn’t need to open her eyes to know the Queen is still reading. Beau’s fingers clench and she tries to keep her breathing calm, but her tenuous hold on her self control is quickly fraying. When the Bright Queen runs a finger through her folds, where slick arousal has gathered, Beau knows it’s all over. She can’t hold it together any longer.

The Bright Queen’s hand stills, and Beau briefly wonders what she did wrong, until she hears the sound of paper shuffling, and then the Queen’s voice in her ear, quiet and husky. “Tell me, Beau, what do you want?”

“You. Gods, take me.” Beau exhales a shaky breath, beyond the point of caring about keeping up appearances. “Fuck me, please.”

The Bright Queen’s finger part her inner folds, dipping inside her, and Beau’s head falls back, onto the Queen’s shoulder. Her hands scramble to find purchase, and they land on the curved wooden handles of the chair. Beau grabs with a white knuckle grip as the Bright Queen pumps her finger in and out, finding a rhythm that has Beau writhing on her lap. She adds a second finger, just barely stretching Beau, and the sensation has Beau moaning. The Bright Queen’s fingers are slender and long, and she knows exactly what she’s doing, curling ever so slightly to hit a sensitive spot along Beau’s inner wall that has her seeing stars. Gods, Beau missed this feeling.

The Bright Queen’s other hand settles across Beau’s stomach for a moment, before trailing upward, toward her chest. “Higher,” Beau breaths.

The Bright Queen’s fingers wrap around Beau’s throat. She applies no pressure, but the sensation of it all causes Beau’s heart to skip a beat. The Bright Queen quickens her pace, deft fingers pumping faster, harder, hitting that same spot over and over and Beau can feel the release coiling low in her belly, and she wants to feel ashamed about coming so quickly but she doesn’t. When the Bright Queen pulls out and rubs her fingers against Beau’s clit, fast and hard, Beau knows it inevitable. 

Against her ear, breath warm, the Bright Queen says, “Be a good girl and come for your Queen.”

Beau does, shuddering through her release, a long, low moan tearing free from her throat, and she collapses onto the Bright Queen, whose hand falls away from her throat, fingers trailing across her clavicle, down her sternum. Beau gives a breathless laugh, saving face. “You can give me harder than that,” she says. “I’m not that easy to break.”

“I’m not looking to break you. I’m simply repaying the favor.” The Bright Queen’s tone is neutral, but there is no mistaking what’s being left unsaid. That she could break Beau without a second thought.

The idea is far more enticing than it has any right to be. Beau isn’t sure how far the Bright Queen will go, but there are very few things she’ll turn down. “I’d say it’s been more than repaid, but I’ll tell you what, you can still have me anyway you want me.”

“Of that, I’m well aware. Stand, Beau, and clear my desk.”

The cocky grin that had accompanied Beau’s previous statement slips away, and with some disappointment, she rises to her feet and begins to stack the paper into neat piles at the corner of the desk. Of course, in the back of her mind, she knows who she’s dealing with. If the Bright Queen wanted to banter and flirt, to relinquish the air of dominance she had adopted, she would have. But she won’t. Beau knows it.

Behind her, the Bright Queen rises to her feet. Her presence is powerful, her desires unpredictable. A moment later, she places a hand between Beau’s shoulder blades, presses in with the faintest pressure, and Beau quickly gets the hint. Entirely too eager, she bends over the desk, rests her cheek against the cool, lacquered wood. The Bright Queen runs her fingers along the expanse of Beau’s back, along the distinguished lines of muscles, old scars, tracing it like a map she’s committing to memory. The further down she went, the more she pressed in with her nails, just enough to be felt, to leave quickly fading marks, but never enough to stay.

“Decided that me having one mark of the Bright Queen is enough?” Beau feels bold. More than that, she feels like pushing boundaries. She wants to see how far the Bright Queen will go. How much she can be taunted. 

“Those symbols are earned, as are the kind you currently desire. Prove yourself, and you may be granted some.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Disobey, and you will be punished accordingly.”

Beau grins against the desk. “You assume I’m not into that.”

“On the contrary, Beau.” The Bright Queen nudges Beau legs further apart, slides her hand across Beau’s ass, down between her thighs, runs her fingers through slick folds, eliciting a gasp. “I know that’s precisely what you want.”

Beau shuts her mouth fairly quickly against the Bright Queen’s ministrations, as those diligent fingers work to tease her, never quite pushing inside, only stoking the fire currently smoldering low in Beau’s stomach. She knows if she stays quiet, she’ll be brought to the brink of another toe curling orgasm. But she wants more. She knows the Bright Queen can break her. But just how much can she break the Bright Queen in return. Beau voice is shakier than she would have liked, but all the same, she says, rather boldly, “What exactly would it take to get you on your knees?”

The reaction is swift. In one moment, Beau is flipped onto her back, the Bright Queen’s hand on her throat. Beau makes no move to break free, to grab hold of her arm. She matches the Bright Queen’s cold stare with a defiant one of her own. “You should know better than to play this game.” The Bright Queen says.

“I think it can get me pretty far. And I think you kinda like it.” Beau responds. “It was an honest question anyhow.”

“Perhaps you should learn to hold your tongue, or I shall hold it for you.” The Bright Queen’s hand tightens against Beau’s throat, fingers digging into the side of her neck. It’s not a show of force, or even of power. It’s an acknowledgement of the game they’re playing, of her willingness to play along. She’s indulging Beau. 

The edges of Beau’s vision swim, the stilted flow of blood to her brain becoming apparent. The pressure on her throat tightens for a moment, before the Bright Queen’s hand releases her. The rush of blood flowing back is intoxicating. Beau leans up on her elbows, looks at the Queen, hoping to reclaim that defiance of before, but she knows that all she’s giving is a look of unrestrained lust.

The Bright Queen, having clasped her hands behind her back and taken a step away, merely raises an eyebrow at her. “Do we have an understanding, Beau?”

“I think you have to make yourself more clear.”

“Very well. On your feet.” The Bright Queen commands. Once Beau has done so, albeit reluctantly, she continues, “You will wait on the bed, on your knees, face against the pillow. You will not move, you will not pleasure yourself. You will do only as I command.”

The tone of her voice made it clear that if she were not obeyed, the session would be over. So, there really is only so far Beau can push. But she has more room than she initially thought to maneuver. So she obeys, heads to the bed and lays on it, ass in the air, waiting, pulse pounding in her ears, due in part to her arousal, but also because of her verbal battle with Queen. She has the feeling that few could get away with that, even in a bedroom context. 

“Good. Now, you shall wait there until I see fit to use you.”

Beau fights back a low groan of annoyance. She should have known she wouldn’t get off so lightly. Still, she has no choice but to wait, so she does. Her arousal fades from a roaring fire to simmering embers. Dimmed, but not gone. Easily stoked, should it ever get tended to. If it ever gets tended to, if she hasn’t fucked this whole thing up just then. She can hear the Bright Queen moving about, tending to various things deemed to be of utmost importance. At one point, the Queen disappears entirely from Beau’s hearing range, presumably to the washroom. Internally, as she waits, Beau laughs at the irony, the Empire on its knees for the dynasty. The thought brings an audible chuckle to her lips.

From her right, she hears the click of a tongue. “Something amusing?”

“I guess. Not this. Okay, sort of this. Whether I renounce my home or not, unless I swear fealty to you, I’ll always be viewed as someone of the Empire, and given that most people here haven’t really met anyone from the Empire, I’m kind of the Empire for them. So in a roundabout way, you’ve brought the Empire to its knees and then some.”

“Ah, I believe I see your point. Intriguing.”

Beau casts a sidelong glance at the Bright Queen, and catches the faintest smile on her lips. 

“Do you always talk politics in the bedroom?” The Bright Queen asks.

“Nah. Why? Is it working?”

“It is… endearing. If that is not the image you are going for, I suggest you quite.” The Bright Queen moves across the room with grace. She’s switched to a flowing silken robe, tied securely around her waist. “Regardless, I’m sure you have a far better grasp on these topics than you let on.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Beau tosses a wink her way, before she realizes it’s likely lost in translation, with her other eye partially obscured. “Why don’t you come over here and find out?”

“You forgot that tongue is what got you here in the first place.”

The double meaning isn’t lost on Beau, but perhaps that was the intention. She debates making a remark, but thinks better of it. The Bright Queen is right, after all, and as fun as trading verbal blows with her is, laying here untouched is starting to grate on Beau’s nerves. Worse yet, she has no idea if the Bright Queen will decide if Beau is being too much, and simply kick her out. So Beau holds her tongue, and looks away.

“Ah, progress. Have you learned a lesson? Will you behave?”

Beau swallows her pride and nods. The Bright Queen isn’t satisfied. She presses further. “Say it. Tell me what you will do.”

“I…” Beau breathes in slowly. Breathes out slowly. “I’ll behave. I’ll be good, my Queen.”

“Mm, good. Heading my orders will get you all that you desire. On your back.”

Beau does so readily. She watches the Bright Queen with hungry eyes as she crosses the room, slipping out of her robe as she does so, and setting it aside. The Bright Queen in her office was one thing. Watching her here, the sway of her hips, the power of her stance, eyes locked on Beau, it was on an entirely different plane. The Bright Queen stops at the bedside, and it takes every ounce of strength inside Beau to not reach out and grab her. The Queen puts a hand on Beau arm.

“There is much I plan to do to you, but I will not cross any boundaries. For your sake, please set them now.”

“Honestly, there really isn’t much I’d object to.”

“Truly? Hm, very well. If ever it is too much, tell me so and I shall cease.” The Bright Queen waits for Beau’s affirmation, and when she receives it, she says, “Now, place your arms above your head.”

Beau does as she is instructed, arms resting leisurely atop the pillows. After a moment, she begins to feel pressure on her wrists, subtle at first, then more pronounced. They grow heavier, until it feels as if they are pressed into the pillows. Beau attempts to lift them, but finds the weight to be too much even for her. She tilts her head up with a curious look, but sees nothing upon her wrists. She looks back at the Queen as it dawns on her, the kind of magic involved.

Even if she wishes to make a smart remark, it would have died in her throat all the same as the Bright Queen mounts hers in one fluid, graceful movement and Beau feels all the air leave her lungs, no Dunamancy required. “You are a clever girl, Beau,” the Bright Queen says, looking powerful and poised, as if she were still on her throne. “Tell me, what am I doing next. Open your mouth.”

Beau opens her mouth, and a moment later, the Bright Queen extends her hand, finger touching the tip of Beau tongue. Beau can’t help herself, and she draws the Queen’s finger into her mouth, dancing her tongue across it. She notices it then, the faint tingling across her tongue, the numbness. She’s felt it before, in a much more powerful form. She releases the Bright Queen’s finger, trailing the tip of her tongue along the underside of it as the Queen pulls away. Beau licks her lips. “Magic,” she answers. “Lightning.”

“Very astute. Now tell me, do you want it?”

“Yes. Touch me. Please.”

The Bright Queen grants her wish, and touches the tips of her fingers to Beau’s chest, trailing them down between her breasts and back up. Where they go, that same numbing tingle follows. It’s an impressive display of power on the part of the Queen, her ability to maintain her Dunamancy, as well as temper a second kind of magic to such a degree. Beau isn’t sure which is turning her on more right now. The Bright Queen circles a finger around Beau’s breast, runs her thumb over a nipple and Beau feels a sharp jolt. She gasps at the sensation, arching her back off the mattress for a moment. The Bright Queen moves on, magic tempered once more, leaving behind a stinging burn that quickly fades. Beau is more prepared the second time, but that doesn’t stop her initial gasp from devolving into a moan that she tries to muffle against her arm.

The Bright Queen draws her hand up to Beau’s throat, the sensation on her fingertips reaching under Beau’s skin and for a moment her throat feels tight, as if she is unable to speak, before the feeling subsides, and only the Bright Queen’s hand remains, closed around Beau’s throat without pressure. Her eyes are cold steel. Impersonal. Beau meets her gaze without any hint of defiance. It was easier to play the game when the Bright Queen wasn’t so near, but now that Beau can feel her, if she were to leave her like this, it would be her undoing in the worst way.

The Bright Queen’s grip on her throat tightens with the first roll of her hips, and Beau’s head falls back as the feeling races through her. The Bright Queen rocks back and forth, with slow, sensual movements, occasionally grinding down with more purpose, eliciting strangled groans from Beau that quickly cease when the pressure on her throat builds up and then it’s gone, all the blood rushing back into her head as the Bright Queen continues to roll her hips.

A low, guttural sound escapes Beau’s lips. The sensations hitting her one after another were almost too much and yet she craves more. She needs more. Perhaps she knows how to get it. “Empress. My Queen.” The motions of her hips still, and Beau next words are a bit more desperate than she would have liked. “Please. I… need you.”

Despite the burning in her cheeks, Beau opens her eyes and dares a glance at the Queen. The Queen offers a small smile in return, “Since you’ve been such a good girl, I suppose I can indulge you.” She leans over, long hair falling in waves across her shoulder and Beau watches her in awe. She could lean up right now and kiss her if she chose, but that same feeling keeps her in place. It’s far too intimate. 

The Bright Queen opens a drawer on the nightstand, and a hundred different ideas on what it could be that she is getting flash through Beau’s mind, all of them just as tantalizing, and when the Bright Queen pulls back, Beau can see exactly what she has in mind. In the Queen’s hand is a crystalline object, the shaft long and thick, curving downwards at the end into a thick bulb. Beau takes it all in. Huh. So the Bright Queen is a size queen.

Beau is curious as to what exactly the Queen has planned, but she doesn’t wait long as the Queen settles atop her thighs, object in hand. She runs her fingers through Beau’s folds, finds the wetness that has been gathering there. She works one finger inside, pumps it slowly, and Beau clamps her jaw shut. A second finger soon follows, working her up. They crook ever so slightly, but they purposefully don’t hit any of her most sensitive spots. The Bright Queen pulls them out, and calls Beau’s name to get her attention. Beau looks at her, watches as she slowly eases the curved end of the toy inside of her. It’s thick, and somewhat uncomfortable, but the Queen goes slow, and once the thickest part is inside, the rest slides in easy, tapering down as it does to a smaller point. Beau looks at the toy between her legs in awe, and then the Queen’s intention hits her.

“Look at me, Beau,” The Queen commands as she lifts her hips, positioning herself above the toy. “Do not look away.”

Beau nods and swallows and watches the Queen line the head of the toy up with her entrance. Briefly, Beau thinks, there’s no way the Queen can take it, the toy is too big. But she watches as the Queen slowly eases down onto the toy, taking it in further and further, stretching to accommodate the girth until it is fully sheathed inside, and her bare skin meets Beau’s. The sight is so visceral that for a moment, Beau swears she can feel the velvet warmth of the Queen around her. It’s an intoxicating sight, and one Beau couldn’t have torn her eyes from even if she had wished to.

Confident she has Beau’s full attention, the Bright Queen begins to move her hips, easing up off the shaft before sinking back down. Her movements are slow at first, working the length of the toy. She doesn’t seem to be in any particular hurry to get herself off, and she certainly isn’t trying to get Beau off. At least, not through physical contact. Sights alone, perhaps, but gods be damned if Beau is going to bow out so easily. The Bright Queen places her hand atop Beau’s chest, right over her heart, and the look she gives her as she rides her, looking down at her with a haughty stare, has Beau clenching around the toy. Her body aches to be touched, practically sings with desire. She wants nothing more than for the Queen to have her way with her. But she knows she’s going to have to wait her turn, as she watches the Queen performs the sweetest kind of torture.

The Queen’s breathing becomes more labored as her pace quickens, takes on more urgency and power as she comes down a little harder each time. Beau can hear her panting, hear the sound of skin on skin, the slickness of her arousal and every lewd sound being made. It’s hard to keep her concentration on the Bright Queen’s face with so much going on. Beau’s eye drift down to the toy, watching it disappear inside the Queen. She sees the muscles of the Queen’s thighs flex, but notices the near imperceptible quake to them, more than simple exhaustion. She is close to her peak. She must be. Beau’s eyes snap back up the Queen’s face. If the Queen noticed her disobedience, she makes no comment.

Beau watches the Queen edge closer and closer with awe and disbelief. It almost doesn’t feel real to be where she is, but the sensations all around her prove otherwise. Atop her, the Queen begins to come undone. She closes her eyes, tilts her head back, seemingly unconcerned about anything other than her release. Her other hand reaches down between her thighs, finger finding her clit and Beau’s eyes follow them. The Queen circles the stiff bud with her fingertips, and it doesn't take long before she falls apart, an exquisite moan dripping from her lips. Her motions slow, before they stop completely, and she settles down atop Beau’s hips, the toy still inside. The Queen fixes her with an appreciative look.

“You did as I commanded,” the Bright Queen says, a breathless edge to her voice. “I’m impressed. You’re obedience will be rewarded.”

Beau wants nothing more than that, to be entirely unwound by the Queen, body and soul coming apart at the curl of her fingers. But she also craves more. To draw those looks and sounds from the Bright Queen herself. Beau has no issue being a means to an end, a body in a bed, but she’s going to make the Queen remember why she chose her in the first place. Beau voices as much, though she does her best to frame it better.

“Haven’t had enough?” The Bright Queen says. “Very well.” She rises up off the toy, the sight of it slipping out of her drawing a groan from Beau. She moves up Beau’s body, positioning herself above Beau’s face. “I suppose you’ve held your tongue long enough.”

Beau doesn’t have time to process the joke made, as her mouth meets slick, warm heat. Beau doesn’t hesitate, running her tongue along the Queen’s folds. Servicing the Queen on her desk was good, but if Beau is being honest, she prefers it this way. Beau dips her tongue inside the Queen, knowing it will have her gripping the headboard, before pulling out and trailing her tongue up and down. She repeats this process a few more times, always switching her rhythm up, enjoying the Queen’s taste, before she moves to the Bright Queen’s clit, wrapping her lips around it and sucking gently. The Queen’s hips twitch in response, and she grinds down. Beau flicks the tip of her tongue across the Queen clit before swirling around it, refining a pattern that has the Queen panting. Still sensitive after her first orgasm, Beau knows it won’t take long to draw another from her, and she’s right. With quick, rhythmic licks across the Queen’s clit, she comes undone for a second time, legs shaking on either side of Beau’s head. She leans forward, eyes closed, lips parted, as she comes down. Even her undoing is radiant. After a few moments, having come back to herself, she sits back. A moment more, and she moves to sit to the side of Beau. She says nothing, sliding the toy out of Beau and placing it atop the bedside drawer.

Beau feels the weight on her wrists dissipate, and she rolls them experimentally. They move freely, and a quick lift off the pillows confirms this. Even still, she remains in the same position, waiting for the Queen to speak. The Queen settles herself between Beau’s thighs. “You’ve been very good, Beau. Are you ready for your reward?”

Beau swallows and nods. The Bright Queen hooks her hands beneath Beau’s legs, and before she can fully register what’s happening, the Queen lifts her legs up and over her shoulders in a surprising display of strength, drawing Beau closer and upwards in the same motion. The Bright Queen’s mouth is inches away from where Beau aches to be touched, but she is in no rush to finish her. She takes her time, kisses along the insides of Beau’s thighs and Beau swears she ascends to a higher plane. The Bright Queen opens her mouth, sinks her teeth into the skin atop one of Beau’s thighs, softly at first, then with more force until a distinctive mark is left, which she soothes with her tongue, before sucking a bruise just beneath it. Beau had asked for marks and by the gods was she getting them. All along her thighs, inside and out, the lips of the Bright Queen burning where they touch, moving ever inward, leaving a trail of bruises and bite marks in their wake.

The first swipe of the Bright Queen’s tongue against Beau’s aching core is divine. Beau almost melts at the sensation, feels her body go slack for a moment before she wills herself to hold on. She reaches back behind her head, holds the bedsheets in her hands, grounds herself. She knows she won’t be able to hold on long, and she can’t bring herself to feel embarrassed about it, but she’s at least going to make the Queen work for it, if only a little. 

The Queen is in no hurry, running her tongue up and down in slow, luxurious strokes. She earns soft sighs that Beau doesn’t try to stifle. The Queen’s ministrations stoke a fire low in Beau’s belly, a subtle warmth that begins to bloom. Across her throat, she feels phantom hands, a delicious reminder of where they had been before. Beau makes the mistake of opening her eyes for the briefest of moments, watches the Queen work, every movement of her tongue. The Queen looks up, catches her gaze, and Beau quickly shuts her eyes, biting her lower lip to keep the whimper from escaping.

When the Queen’s tongue pushes inside her, Beau’s resolve crumbles. The fire erupts, eating away at every part of her. Beau devolves into a series of filthy, panting moans, a mess she rarely allow anyone to see. The Bright Queen pumps her tongue inside and out, alternating between long strokes across Beau’s entrance that grow faster, more urgent, and pushing past her entrance, teasing inside with a wickedly talented tongue. Behind the Queen’s head, Beau’s goes curl. She clutches the sheets with white knuckles, barely keeping any semblance of composure.

She can feel her release building to a crescendo, and when the Queen fixes her attention on Beau’s clit, taking it into her mouth, sucking and licking, it spills over at last, white hot and blinding. Beau’s sure she cries out something akin to the Bright Queen’s name, but she doesn’t care. She comes down slowly, melting into the mattress, utterly spent and panting. The Bright Queen regards her with an appreciative look, tracing her lips with the tip of her tongue. “You did well, Beau. Are you satisfied with your reward?”

Beau manages a breathless chuckle, lifting herself up on shaky elbows. “Are you asking for your sake or mine? ‘Cause I think we both know the answer to that.”

“Insolent, as per usual, I see.”

Beau grins, even as the Bright Queen begins to rise, picking up her robe and slipping it on. “Well, it was my reward, not my punishment.”

“Ever eager for that, aren’t you?” The Queen ties the robe shut, before pushing her hair out of her face, draping it over one shoulder. “Perhaps one day I shall indulge you. In any event, you can stay a few moments to compose yourself. I trust you can be discreet upon exiting my chambers.”

“I’m a little insulted that you don’t think I’ve never snuck around like this before.”

“On the contrary, I’m sure you’re well versed.” The Queen returned to her desk, pulling the chair close behind her and picking up her quill, her attention shifting back to her work. “Do be mindful you don’t overstay your welcome.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Beau falls back into the mattress, stares at the intricate stitch work of the canopy above. The first time had been surreal,a perfect dream. The repetition solidified it. 

She could get used to Xhorhas.


End file.
